


Nostalgia

by LeapAngstily



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Fluffydorf, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1599770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riccardo takes a moment for himself in his old home stadium.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> After making Monto appear as the bad guy in [Bitter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1559525), I decided the world needed some MontoDorf fluff to compensate for it. Except when I say fluff, it obviously also includes angst because my mind is twisted like that. 
> 
> Anyways, the stories aren’t connected – in fact, you can think of them as two completely opposite views on the current situation in Milan. Knowing the Milan management, the truth is probably something we’ll never get to hear.
> 
> Set after Milan’s loss against Atalanta earlier today.

_“I think I always have the confidence of the coach.” – Riccardo Montolivo_

  
  
The bleachers are empty, the stadium silent aside from a few staff members checking the stands in case of forgotten possessions.  
  
It feels familiar and strange at the same time, being back in Bergamo, back where it all started.  
  
Riccardo can still remember the numerous times he used to sit here with Giampaolo, in these very same stands, watching the Atalanta first team playing and waiting for the day they would be the ones on that pitch.  
  
To think it would be Atalanta of all teams to break Milan’s dreams of Europe for the next season, to postpone Riccardo’s own dreams of reaching something great with his team with one more year.  
  
Riccardo does not regret coming to Milan, not even though Fiorentina has surpassed them in the league, not even if the atmosphere in Milanello is practically toxic with all the rumours and managerial struggles surrounding the club.  
  
He could never regret it, because he loves Milan – he grew up dreaming of this, aiming for the moment he could captain this amazing team. And he believes they will rise again, because that belief is the only thing they have left.  
  
“We’re leaving soon, Riccardo.”  
  
Clarence. The glimmer of hope for this season, the one who managed to unite the team that was in shambles, the one who brought back Riccardo’s will to fight.  
  
“This is where it all began,” Riccardo says softly, not sure whether Clarence is even listening but he keeps on talking nonetheless, “I could’ve come to Milan from the start, when I was just a kid. But instead it was here. This is where the dream started.”  
  
“It’s good to remember where we came from,” Clarence sits down next to him on the long wooden bench, close enough that their thighs brush against each other, “But looking forwards is even more important. To see where we’re going.”  
  
Riccardo has no idea where they are going. He had thought he knew when he decided to join Milan, but then everything came stumbling down. There is no clear direction anymore, if there ever was.  
  
“We wanted to give you the Europa League,” he tells Clarence quietly, shying away from his gaze when the coach tries to make an eye-contact, “To show everyone you belong with us. To shut  _them_  up.”  
  
Them. The media. The club management. The people who have been painting Riccardo as Clarence’s biggest enemy within the team, when in fact the truth is the complete opposite.  
  
“Thought you wanted me out,” Clarence jokes lightly, resting his hand on Riccardo’s knee and caressing it gently, the warmth in his eyes only meant for Riccardo when the captain finally meets his gaze.  
  
“I hate it,” Riccardo answers, his tone sharper than he actually intended, “I wanna tell them you’re not going anywhere. That you’re the best damn thing that’s happened to this club in the last two years.”  
  
The best thing that has happened to  _Riccardo_  since he joined Milan, is what he really wants to say, but he knows they cannot cross that line. Not yet. Maybe not ever.  
  
“I know, Riccardo,” Clarence whispers, his voice deep and rich and filled with so much affection that Riccardo wishes he could just kiss him right there, “Don’t mind them, you don’t owe them any explanations. They don’t need to know. It’s enough that we do.”  
  
“But it’s not fair to you,” Riccardo argues weakly, even though this is a conversation they have had numerous times already. Low profile, better let them imagine the worst, as long as they do not find out the truth, “They’re putting it all on you. You can’t leave. I—  _We_  don’t want you to leave.”  
  
“Nothing’s decided yet,” Clarence reminds him, sliding his hand slowly up Riccardo’s thigh, feeling the tension in his every muscle, “And no matter what happens, it’s not your fault.”  
  
Riccardo knows Clarence would never blame him. Not even if he slipped up and somebody found out about them. Not even if this thing between them – whatever people might call it – ended up tearing the dressing room apart for real.  
  
“The team’s waiting,” Clarence notes with a smile as he stands up and offers his hand to Riccardo, “Time to show that brave face again. Time to be the captain.”  
  
Riccardo takes a hold of Clarence’s hand and allows him to pull him up to his feet. Clarence does not let go of his hand as they start walking towards the exit where the bus has been waiting for them all this time.  
  
“I never dreamed of anything like this, you know,” Riccardo admits when they reach the door, reluctant to release his hold on Clarence’s hand just yet, “It all seemed so simple back then.”  
  
“But isn’t that the best part? We never know what’s going to happen,” Clarence laughs softly, and then he lifts Riccardo’s hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles gently before finally letting go.  
  
On the bus, Clarence takes his seat in the front with Tassotti while Riccardo walks all the way to the back, sitting down next to Giampaolo who shoots him a curious look over the game he is playing on his smartphone, “Everything okay?”  
  
Riccardo smiles in response, leaning his head on Giampaolo’s shoulder affectionately even though his eyes never stray far away from the front of the bus, “Yeah, just feeling a bit nostalgic, is all.”

 

  
_”At this time my coach is Clarence Seedorf.” – Riccardo Montolivo_


End file.
